LITMIR.BIZ

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as he rose he caught Lily’s eye.

      She looked away, embarrassed by both her sister and herself. Despite the poise she’d shown with him on the portico, it seemed as if falling in front of Lord Marbrook was a predetermined reality, not a mere happenstance.

      ‘Boys, it’s time to come in and dress for Christmas Eve supper.’ Rose’s voice carried over the clear air from where she stood at the open doorway, her willowy frame, so much like their mother’s, draped by a puce dress. Like their mother, Rose was refined and serene, a definite contrast to Lily’s clumsiness. ‘You, too, Daisy.’

      ‘But I’m not ready to come in,’ she whined.

      ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s time to dress. Bring her along, will you, Lily?’

      Lily reached for Daisy’s hand, but her sister tugged it away. With a warning arch of her eyebrow, Lily forced Daisy to comply and pulled her out of the garden and up to the house before she could say anything else to Lord Marbrook which might embarrass her, the family or Lily.

      At the French doors, Daisy trudged past Rose, in as dark a mood as her twin nephews. It wasn’t the children Rose watched, but Lily.

      ‘I saw what happened,’ she said as Lily tried to slip past her into the warmth of the house. ‘Lord Marbrook was quite gallant.’

      ‘If only he’d been so courteous in front of all London. What a difference it would’ve made.’ To both her future and her past.

      Rose laid a comforting hand on Lily’s shoulder, the diamonds in her wedding band catching the low winter sun and sparkling. ‘If you’d face those who laughed at you, you’d defeat them. Join me and Edgar for the Season and we’ll have a grand time and show everyone we don’t care a fig for what they think.’

      ‘No. I’d rather stay here than be ridiculed in London again.’ She stormed inside and towards her room, eager for some solitude. After the dance, with society’s cruel taunts and whispers making her ears burn, she’d retreated to Yorkshire, determined never to set foot in town again. It was a quiet life and despite her ever-present family, at times a very lonely one. Her sisters might have wed, gained houses of their own, husbands and children, but it was difficult to see such a future for herself. Lord Marbrook had played no small part in her current state. An account of his snub had been printed by the newspapers, along with their usual society gossip, so all London could snigger over the incident. Despite his catching her today, and the hint of an apology, there was little he could do short of writing a letter to The Times praising her to undo the damage he’d already wrought on her reputation and her present circumstances.

      Gregor didn’t follow the others inside, but retreated back into the warmth of the hothouse, Pygmalion close on his heels. He wandered the length of the room, the heat easing the slight pain in his thigh from his old wound aggravated by the long carriage ride today. He approached the centre of the table and the bright red plants, reaching out to touch the pointed leaves. He rubbed one between his fingers, the softness of it reminding him of Miss Rutherford’s dress against his palm and her supple curves pressed to him.

      When he’d seen her slip, he’d rushed to her, despite the stiffness in his leg, eager to keep her from tumbling into the thorny bushes. He hadn’t expected the weight of her in his arms to singe him as if he’d grasped a hot iron. It’d taken every ounce of gentlemanly control not to claim her parted red lips as she’d stared up at him, her deep brown eyes wide with surprise. If he’d given in and tasted her, it would have confirmed her low opinion of him, the one he’d caught in her comments and the wary looks she’d flung at him from across this very table.

      It’d hurt to let go of her on the path, just as it’d burned to turn away from her on the dance floor four years ago, but both times he’d had little choice. Decorum demanded he let go of her today. His father had commanded him to disregard her at the ball. Determined to show his father he was a Marbrook and deserving of paternal respect, he’d done the old man’s bidding. In the end, it’d gained him nothing but regret and wounded the person who’d shown him the most kindness that day.

      ‘I should have ignored my father and helped her up. I should have apologised today.’ He banged his fist on the rough table, making the plants shiver, unable to comprehend what had tied his tongue when he’d faced her. ‘I can direct estate workers, command men into battle, yet I can’t spit out one much-needed and long-overdue apology. What’s wrong with me?’

      He looked down at the dog sitting beside him. The dog licked its lips but did nothing more, as silent on the matter as Gregor had been with Miss Rutherford.

      ‘Yes, I know, the army taught me a number of things, but not how to seek a woman’s forgiveness.’ He picked the animal up and plopped it down on the table where it sat, its wagging tail brushing the terracotta pot holding the plant. ‘Neither did my father, nor my mother for that matter.’

      He rubbed the dog behind its ear, making it cock its head to one side in dreamy satisfaction. ‘I might have had difficulty today, but there’s still tonight and tomorrow. Correct?’

      The dog yawned and Gregor picked him up, tucked him under his arm and made for the house.

      There would be other opportunities to speak with Miss Rutherford and correct at least one of the wrongs he’d committed in his life. He’d apologise to her and be worthy at last of the warm friendship extended to him by the Rutherford family.

       Chapter Three

      Noise filled the dining room as the entire family—children, the aged aunt, parents—and Gregor sat around the long mahogany table. It’d been quite a feast and the half-devoured pudding still decorated the centre, with two tall, silver candlesticks festooned with evergreens standing guard on either side. To Gregor’s surprise, the children had been included in the supper and were still seated at the far end of the table and attended by their nurse. The twins chattered together, joined by their three-year-old cousin and Miss Daisy, who didn’t look happy at being seated with them. Once in a while she would flash Gregor a bright smile which he gladly returned, more amused than annoyed by her fascination with him, though it was Miss Rutherford’s attention he longed to capture tonight.

      She sat beside him, appearing as unhappy about her place at the table as Daisy. It was as if the laughing woman hurling snowballs at her sister and brother had never existed and he very much wanted her to return. Whenever he tried to draw her into conversation, she offered him little more than simple answers to his questions before turning away to speak with her brother-in-law, leaving him to the aged aunt who sat on his other side and had no end of stories to tell.

      When at last the aunt fixed her attention on Laurus, and the brother-in-law turned to speak to his wife, Gregor leaned close to Miss Rutherford, catching the notes of her lily-of-the-valley perfume over the rich nutmeg spice of the pudding. He took a deep breath, allowing himself the brief indulgence of her scent before he spoke.

      ‘I may have to adopt him.’ He nodded to where Pygmalion sat beside his chair. ‘He won’t leave my side.’

      She studied the dog. ‘Aunt Alice is very attached to her dogs, all of them. She isn’t likely to part with even this little terror. Pygmalion may make you stay here.’

      ‘Won’t your parents mind?’

      She tossed him a sly little smile and even without the glow of sheer joy on her face, she was gorgeous. Her hair was drawn up in ringlets at the back of her head, the faint gold in the brown made darker by the red ribbon wound through her locks. She wore a dark-green velvet dress dotted with leaves embroidered in a lighter green thread which shone with the candlelight whenever she moved. ‘As long as you don’t disturb them while they’re with their plants, or trample the seedlings, you could be a herd of elephants residing in the house and they wouldn’t notice.’

      He fingered

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